


Ritual

by miobambiino



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Battle, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Doombots, Getting Together, Hospitals, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mouth-to-Mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miobambiino/pseuds/miobambiino
Summary: Amazing prompt from @snoozingcat! I hope you enjoy <3“if you wanted to write a little stevetony something where an injured tony has to rescue a totally-out-of-it steve, that would be rad. bonus points for strategically torn clothing and/or emergency mouth-to-mouth :P”(I didn’t get the strategically torn clothing in, but I’ll weave it in somewhere in another fic)





	Ritual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snoozingcat on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=snoozingcat+on+tumblr).



> This fic is one of the first fanfics I wrote (maybe the second?) so excuse any mistakes, I'm probably going to revisit this in the near future - but for now, enjoy!

“ _C'mon Cap!_ ”

The battle had been going on for six hours. _Six goddamn hours_ , and Tony was ready to call it quits.

They’d been called out to Bucharest after reports of Doombots terrorising the town centre. Doom, in all his bravado, seemed to have learnt a thing or two since his last encounter with the Avengers, and this time had chosen not to invade the city where the team actually lived. What is it and super villains and New York?

The team had faced Doombots before, but not like this. They were far more advanced than their last encounter; made of reinforced vibranium, Doom’s robotic lackeys became just that much more difficult to take out.

Thor and the Hulk were currently drawing in the most attention from Doombots. The heavy-hitters were being rained down upon my an onslaught of bots, swarming on them like locusts. They’d manage, though, they always did. Like always, the pair seemed to be enjoying the fight more than was sane.

Sam and Nat were on evac - Bucky defending their backs - retrieving civilians from buildings which were amidst their latest battle, and directing them toward the barricade set up by S.H.I.E.L.D and local authorities. Cap had given strict instructions to his team that the underground train stations should be off limits. The last thing they needed was the ground collapsing in on innocent civilians.

Clint had spent the majority of the mission perched on top of rooftops, giving the rest of the eyes over the entire scene, picking out bots with explosive arrows which strayed too far from the centre of the battle.

Tony and Steve were on the ground (well, _air_ in Tony’s case most the time) battling off Doombots while trying to get close enough to Doom - who was controlling the entire fleet from the safety of a bank. He’d set up a perimeter of bots defending the building, and hostages behind them as a safety net, the bastard. Doom was tucked away in a reinforced vault, using remote monitors to oversee his attack.

Six hours was a long time to be fighting, but it wasn’t unusual in their line of work. But this one was taking its toll. The usual chatter on the communal comm was now filled with sharp updates and commands, the occasional brisk response, and mostly of grunts and yells for their teammates.

Plus the occasional laugh from Thor, though even those were now somewhat empty, not filled with their usual mirth.

Tony had turned away from Steve for just a moment, _a moment_ , and things went to shit. He heard a spectacular whine from behind him, turning just in time to see an immense electrical pulse slam into Steve’s skull. The stubborn jackass only stood back up shakily, fists raised - as if he were a skinny kid from Brooklyn all over again, standing up to the latest bully in the back-alley of a movie theatre. The Doombot swung a heavy metal fist in an uppercut, which Steve only just managed to block. The impact left him dazed though, and he was oblivious to another bot approaching behind, bringing down it’s fist with a sickening crack over Steve’s head.

Steve collapsed like a rag-doll, as if the strings holding him up had been slashed, he dropped to the floor and made no motion of getting up.

Tony stared, open mouthed and silenced for a moment before his face contorted with rage, and he let out a yell any Asgardian warrior would be proud of. Tony was ready to give everything and anything to finish this right now. He transferred all power into his chest beam, gauging a deep, burning crevice into seven bots surrounding him, and sped towards Steve’s limp form, delivering another devastating shot from his chest, taking out the two considerably larger bots who were crowded around his Steve.

Throwing his battered helmet to the ground, Tony skidded to a stop next to Steve, who was was dangerously pale and had a trail of blood coating one side of his face, matting his beautiful blonde locks his forehead. His lips were blue, and Tony felt dread corse through him like ice in his veins.

“I honestly expected more of a challenge out of your Glorious Leader, Mister Stark.” Tony blinked back the tears he had felt brimming in his eyes, seething at the sound of the muffled snipe from Doom, twisted disgustingly into a dull mechanical tone.

_“Anthony! Wait for support before engaging!”_ came Thor’s voice over the comm - Tony kept an earpiece on separate to the armour, so he wouldn’t be out the loop if he ended some air against his head. Thor’s voice was strained and curt, no doubt busy with another wave of bots keeping him occupied.

He wouldn’t get here in time.

Tony saw red, firing up the repulsers on his boots and lunged at Doom, swinging at his metal-coated face, then tightening a lethal grip around Doom’s neck. Doom scrambled at the armour, trying to maintain a grip out of desperation, Tony thought maliciously. This coward had put his team, his family, through hell and back more than enough times, and now had almost taken his Captain from him. Because although Steve wasn’t technically his per say, Tony felt it like a throb in his heart that Steve _was_ his.

Doom’s breathing had become strained and rapid, and Tony only tightened his grip. He wanted Doom to suffer, to die _slowly_ -

A burning hot sensation filled his rib cage, and Tony let out a huff of air, releasing Doom from his grip involuntarily. Looking down, Tony saw a deep crimson gush from a newly-made gash in his armour. He looked up to Doom’s face, whose eyes narrowed in what must have been a smile, as he chuckled menacingly.

The blade, made from vibranium and now coated in Tony’s blood, was retracted from Tony’s torso with a sickening slick noise.

“Now now, Tony, don’t look so hurt,” Doom crouched down next to Tony - when had he fallen to his knees? “Consider us fair, now. You destroy three-quarters of my fleet, chase me away from my home in New York, force me into hiding like a sewer-rat, and paint me as a terrorist. So,” he mused casually, “I kill your Captain and- well, you, I’m afraid. Are you actually so naive? That you could what? Just _suffocate_ me and I’d call myself defeated?” Doom grabbed Tony’s face in one hand, forcing his eyes to meet his own, “You’ve gone soft, Mister S-”

Tony unleashed the last remnants of the suit’s energy into his gauntlets, which he’d quietly aimed towards Doom’s gut while he was monologuing. _Seriously,_ he considered _, a super villain’s greatest down-fall._

Doom screamed in either agony or fury - hopefully both - clawing at the fatal wound to his gut, charred black around the edges. The smell of burning flesh filled Tony’s senses, and he felt a wave of nausea roll over him.   
Doom stumbled backwards, waving a command with the gesture of his hand, and one of his lackeys gathered his vulnerable form in it’s arms, and retreated, firing up its own, more primitive repulser technology.

“Detonate the others” Doom seethed through gritted teeth. Tony watched as Doom gave him one last murderous look, before the bot took off in flight, far away from the current battleground.

_“All remaining Doombots will detonate in less than 10 seconds, Sir.”_ Came FRIDAY’s voice through the comms, no doubt had the A.I altered the rest of the team too.

Panic swelled in Tony’s chest, and he scrambled towards Steve’s body, hauling the larger man into his arms as the downed bots began to beep expectantly. Tony dragged Steve’s body, occasionally using the last drops of energy in his suit to push them forward - towards the abandoned office building opposite them, carrying him deep into the building. They collapsed in an ungrateful heap, and Tony turned back in time to see the small red lights on the bots flash angrily for a second before the beeping came to a halt, and the bots blew up spectacularly in the streets. But Tony wasn’t filled with the usual relief that came at the end of a battle, as debris rained down from the outside of the building, collapsing in on the entrance, trapping the pair inside.

Tony shook off the remains of his armour and the dust settled around them, ignoring the steady drip of blood down his own body, and leant over Steve’s unconscious form. Propping the man’s legs upwards, Tony then cradled Steve’s blanched face in the palms of his hands.

Pressing his ear over Steve’s lips, Tony heard no sign of breathing. Forcing back the will to just break down and sob at Steve’s side, Tony willed the strength to start making compressions on Steve’s chest.

_Ah, ah, ah, ah, Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive,  
Ah, ah, ah, ah, Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive,_

He grinned despite himself at the silliness of it, singing a song in his head to will Captain America into breathing again, but it worked damnit, sue him.

He maintained a steady rhythm of beats, before taking in a huge gulp of air - which was heavy with smoke and dust - and brought his lips to Steve’s. They were cold and lifeless, but Tony beat on, filling Steve’s airways, until bringing his attention back to maintaining compressions on Steve’s chest.

What was it he had thought before? His mind was sluggish and he could barely process what was going on. Compressing Steve’s chest felt like instinct, it came so naturally when nothing else did. The blood loss, part of his mind quietly supplied to him. Ah, he remembered why he felt to shit now.  He’d been … singing … before? Oh.

_Ah, ah, ah, ah, Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive_

“Stayin’ alive, stay- alive,” the words escaped his lips in a whisper, barely forming in his mouth.

God, he needed to sleep - just for a second, he thought, tilting to the side and weakening the compressions he made over Steve’s star-spangled chest. _No_ , he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the cloud of exhaustion, and pushed on.  

Tony lost track of how long he was doing this, performing it like a ritual, like it was his religion, before he took in a final mouthful of oxygen. Tony himself was beginning to feel lightheaded, the space they occupied becoming scarcer of oxygen and filling with ash and debris. Nonetheless, Tony persisted and breathed for Steve again and again until-

Steve released a shaky breath, barely audible, but there no doubt. Tony collapsed with relief, feeling Steve’s pulse grow stronger, the serum finally kicking in and booting Steve back up like a machine.

Tony’s world suddenly turned sideways - he’d collapsed, he realised distantly - and he struggled to maintain a steady flow of oxygen himself. He felt the warm trickle of blood oozing from his side, and pressed a hand against the wound absently, eliciting a strangled cry of pain from his mouth, which tasted like copper.

That wasn’t good news.

Tony watched the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest, vaguely aware of a grumble outside, the crack of rock and cement being hauled to the ground, before he closed his burning eyes, feeling fait relief before his mind swum backwards impossibly far, and abandoned him in nothingness.

 

* * *

 

Natasha had heard the commotion over the comms after Thor warned Tony to hold back before he got there. She then heard a crack of thunder and Thor launching into the air, but looking up he wasn’t landing down on the avenue Tony and Steve had been fighting on; the Thunder God had intercepted a Doombot mid-air.

_“Thor’s got Doom,”_ came Clint’s voice over the comms, _“Not heard from Cap or the tin-can for a while though - Nat?”_

Natasha didn’t consider herself leader material, but she was exceptional at planning strategy, maybe even more so than Steve. With radio silence from their two leaders, the responsible fell onto Natasha’s shoulders. She was already jogging to Tony’s last location while she barked out come orders.

“Clint, get back to ground level and meet Sam, you two help with recon, I need your eyes down here for an civilians who might need medical attention - check under collapsed buildings and debris,” Nat surged round a corner, skidding on the ball of her foot - noticing Barnes on her tail, “Thor and Hulk are detailing Doom, once you’re done, help get him into confinement for interrogation later - James and I are closing in on Cap and Tony.”

_“Sir and Captain Rogers and trapped in the building to your 3 o'clock, Miss Romanoff.”_

“Can you get ‘em on the line, FRIDAY?”

_“I’m afraid not, Sargent Barnes, I appear to have lost contact through the debris.”_

Natasha slid to a stop in front of a charred mass of dismembered Doombots, noting motor oil staining the street, and on top of it, Tony’s helmet. She relayed as much to Bucky, who scooped it up, giving it a once over before scrunching up his nose and turning to look at Nat.

“This ain’t motor oil,” he grunted solemnly, holding out the helmet for Natasha to see more clearly in the light. The substance on it was scarlett in colour, and not as viscous as any oil.

Pursing her lips, Natasha raised her gauntlets and did a scan of the debris in front of her - they beeped back at her.

“They’re in there - Thor, Hulk, we could use a hand here.” Nat said as Bucky already began tearing through the debris, casting it aside as if it weigh nothing. Sam ran up beside them then, Natasha raising an eyebrow at him in return, he looked momentarily sheepish at that, but shrugged and said

“Heard there was a situation, I ain’t got guns like Thor but I got ones better than his.” he added playfully nodding at Bucky - who snorted in response, though the effect was dampened by how tired he sounded. Sam began digging alongside Nat, noting her discomfort

“Hey, Red,” he tried, “they’ll be here any minute.”

 

* * *

 

Hulk made easy work of the debris, taking less than a few minutes to get through. He would’ve made even faster work of it if the others hadn’t made him promise not to smash through, something about not letting the building collapse on their leaders.

Bucky vaulted into the building the second the gap was big enough, followed closely by Nat. The others stayed outside prepping medical supplies just in case, Clint taking a business call with S.H.I.E.L.D who were on clean-up.

Buck shone a torch through the building, casting it over metal girders, beams, blocks of cement, and then two bodies, one slumping over the other. Nat noticed too, and they quickly covered the distance, coming to a stop by the two bodies.

Steve’s eyes were flickering open and shut.

“Steve- Stevie, can you look at me? Hey hey focus, punk, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Steve took a rattling breath in, before signing and closing his eyes. Bucky leant forward, momentarily concerned, when Steve spoke up.

“One. S'always one, you jerk. I’m con-concussed, stop flipin’ the bird a'me” the blonde slurred, earning an amused huff from Bucky.

Bucky smile cut short when he saw the concern etched into Natasha’s delicate features, looking at Tony who hadn’t responded once. The gap made by the hulk was big enough for the medics to get  a pair of gurney’s in. Steve was hoisted onto one, his head rolling side to side as he furrowed his brow, muttering something about being fine, while Natasha rolled Tony over.

“It was Tony’s blood,” was all she said before her and Bucky hoisted his limp form in their arms, making their way over the the gurney. Gently placing the man down, they hastily jogged with him out the building as medics swarmed around them, fitting Tony with an oxygen mask while others were giving him a once-over, yelling commands in Romanian for the prep team in the jet.

In the light of dusk, Tony’s face was nearing a dangerously blue-grey tone, waxen and covered in ash which matted his sweaty hair to his skull. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, Natasha set her features determinedly, getting the two injured men to the quinjet where they’d be taken to the Helicarrier’s medical wing.

She wasn’t about to lose two of her boys in her watch.

 

* * *

 

Tony woke to the steady sound of beeping and a smell of disinfectant. God, he thought, what did we do this time? Without opening his eyes, he rolled to one side, noting a pulling sensation on his arm.

“My friend, t'would be unwise to move so hastily at this moment,” came the deep comforting voice of their resident Demi-God from beside him.

Tony loved Thor. Thor was so wise, and happy, and kind, and his laughter rumbled in his chest like thunder- was that part of being a thunder-er?

Thor’s hearty chuckles were heard from beside his head, and Tony peeled open the eye that wasn’t currently pressed into a pillow.

Blinking a few times and twisting his face funnily, Tony looked around the room, settling on Thor who was sitting in a chair much to small for someone of his stature. It creaked weakly as Thor leant forward, gently ruffling Tony’s hair and smiling sadly.

“We feared we’d lost you, Anthony,” Thor said, “your heart was weak and you lost a great deal of blood, I’m afraid. I am, I’m so sorry, my friend, I didn’t get to you sooner. Had I been faster, perhaps Doom wouldn’t have been able to inflict such a grievous wound upon you.”

Noting the guilty look flashing across Tony’s face, Thor quickly changed the subject, and was leaning down to pick something up of the floor.

“This,” he said grinning, “was the blade that struck you - you were most lucky that it merely passed under your lungs, nothing vital was clipped - your liver was slightly, but your physicians were remarkable at their role!” He beamed down at Tony, hair messily pulled back into a bun. His t-shirt was far too small for his chest, which had Black Widow’s doing written all over it. Coincidentally, it literally did have her name in graphic print over the front, Tony noted frowning curiously.

Tony stared dumb-stuck at the long blade Thor was presenting to him, when a voice sounded from his doorway.

“I tried to tell the surgeons not to bother with it - your liver that is - hardly valuable, damaged beyond repair. Definitely wouldn’t be worth the trouble. They neglected to listen to me.”

“Oh Natashalie, you wound me,” Tony slurred melodramatically, wincing when he turned his head too fast trying to look at her, his vision doubling, tripling, and quadrupling a few times before adjusting again.

“No, _that_ wounds you,” she said, gesturing to the blade with a nod of her head, all while perching on the end of the medical bed by his feet, “You’re an idiot, by the way, Stark. Strangling Doom? Not your best plan of action.”

“Excuse me, but isn’t that your signature move? Strangulation by thighs - they have action figures of you doing it now!” He protested weakly, wincing again at the movement of his chest. Natasha gently pushed him back down by his chest onto his pillow with one steady foot.

“Yes, because I’m excellent at it. You on the other hand, well-” she he turned playfully to his current state.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, a S.H.I.E.L.D nurse poked his head through the door.

“Director Fury wants to have a word with the Avengers briefly, ma'am.”

Natasha nodded and made her way to the door. Thor got up to do the same when Tony tried to get up again, until his friend gave him a stern look that made him settle back down.

“I’m an Avenger too, fatal injury or no fatal injury!” Tony called out to Thor’s retreating form, who turned mid walk, grinning at him,

“Yes, but Steven is staying put in his room, I suggest you do the same, Tony.” With a wink, Thor strolled down the corridor and jogged to catch up with Nat until they disappeared from view.

_Steve_.

_Oh shit, how did he forget Steve._

Tony craned his neck to get a better view out of the door, deciding the coast was clear and he pried himself off his bed. Looking down, he was relived they’d put him in scrubs, not the usual medical gown. After the ordeal with Clint, who protested profusely at the medical staff for baring his ass to everyone without his knowing, S.H.I.E.L.D medical had been reluctant to have a repeat of the incident.

Tearing out his IV (his internal _Grey’s Anatomy_ fan was screaming at him for doing so), Tony skunk out into the corridor, medical mask and all, and began searching the corridor for Steve. The Helicarrier’s medical wing wasn’t too extensive, so it didn’t take long. Though they were certainly used to Avengers getting out of bed long before what was medically recommended, so the mask hid Tony’s identity somewhat - hopefully long enough that he wouldn’t be caught.

_C'mon, c'mon, Steve where are you- ah!_

Steve lay in a large medical bed - larger than his he noted irritably, favouritism, much - looking more peaceful than he usually did nowadays. Hobbling over to Steve’s side, Tony nudged the door closed behind him with the heel of his bare foot.

Ignoring the way his stitches burned at the motion, Tony sat down on the edge of the chair next to Steve, propping his chin on the mattress. Closing his eyes, Tony’s mind wandered back to the battle.

_Watching Steve fall to the ground, blood gushing from his head, looking as lifeless as he did in Tony’s visions. God, this was his fault, not fast enough, the body armour didn’t protect him enough, not good enough for Steve. He wasn’t good enough for Steve. The shock of being stabbed, dragging Steve through the rubble as fast as he could, the bombs inside the bots flickering too close together now, the explosion, the debris, Steve wasn’t breathing, breathe for Steve, beat Steve’s heart, Steve still wasn’t breathing-_

“-Tony?”

Tony’s head shot up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Steve was awake, and smiling at him. Why, why was he smiling? Tony wasn’t fast enough, he could have gotten Steve killed-

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so, so sorry you wouldn’t believe - that rhymed, sorry, I’m not trying to be clever of whatever - _shit_ , again, with the rhyming, I didn’t mean to, this is very serious and I’m so sorry _pleasedon'thateme-_ ”

“Jesus fuck, Tony, do you ever shut your goddamn mouth?” Steve said hopelessly, eyes swimming with mirth.

Tony let out a deep sigh, and tried again.

“Are you- I don’t know- okay? Angry? Sad- are you sad, I don’t know how to deal with Sad Steve. And watch your language”

Steve eyed him, bewildered by everything coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“You’re crazy, you know that- wait, are you on morphine?” Steve chose that moment to glance down at Tony, at his current attire and his bare feet, before groaning.

“Tony, you should be in bed right now, God _why are you here?!_ ”

Tony looked momentarily hurt, before Steve signed and lifted his own covers.

“Lie down.” He ordered, looking at Tony expectantly. When Tony stood up, Steve’s eyes widened at the growing patch of blood emerging from Tony’s abdomen.

“Oh for the love of- _Tony_ , are you walking around after just having stitches.” The statement wasn’t really a question, Steve had already lifted up the other man’s scrubs to reveal that yes, in fact there were recently sewn stitches and yes Tony had pulled them enough to bleed considerably.

Tony slid into the bed next to Steve, feeling a sense of comfort at the warms radiating from his chest. Steve sighed in frustration and pressed the assistance button next to his head.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Tony Stark,” there was anxiety in his tone, but he seemed comfortable enough that Tony could stay. They were in a hospital room after all, just not Tony’s.

The morphine had begun to wear off the moment Tony ripped out his IV, which he kind of deserved for doing so, and he clenched his teeth impossibly tight trying to suppress a groan from the wound, with was now leaning less toward ’ _uncomfortable_ ’ and more towards ’ _really fucking annoying_ ’. Steve noticed, pulling Tony closer to his body and brushing a hand through his hair - it was getting long now, he noted, flopping over his eyes half the time.

Tony was drifting off to sleep by the time a doctor waltzed in, clearly not imagining Steve would be in any urgent assistance, and her eyes widened then squinted as she pulled her face into a frown.

“ _Mr Stark!_ You were under strict bed-rest until further notice-”

“Well I am in a bed-”

“You shouldn’t have moved beds at all!” She sighed, frustrated but compliantly, as she moved around the side of the bed Tony was on, only to sigh again when she noticed his stitches.

“For this, forget about me using morphine this time round” she drawled without much heat, when Natasha came bursting into the room, followed by the rest of the team.

“ _Ty sukin syn_ , Tony, you were stabbed - through and through - and you’re more worried about Steve?” Natasha hissed, pointedly glaring at him again when she noticed the stitches.

Natasha asked the doctor if she could do it instead, staring Tony down, eliciting a nervous twitch from Tony. The doctor merely snorted and carried on - Nat hadn’t been serious anyway, but the threat carried through.

Turning his attention away from Natasha, Tony felt Steve’s eyes burrowing into the back of his head. Waving his hands around in leu of a remark in his defence, Tony met Steve’s eyes and regretted it upon seeing the hurt in them.

“It didn’t even hit anything important, don’t start getting worked up about it-”

“It hit you. _You’re important,_ Tony,” Steve bit out, actually leaving Tony temporarily speechless - a rare occurrence in itself.

Bruce watched the exchange and motioned for the other to give them some privacy, Sam obliged, rolling his eyes when Nat, Bucky, Thor, and Clint all hesitated, clearly more than interested in the exchange.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the doctor finished redoing the stitches Tony pulled, then applying a fresh gauze over them, secured with a bandage wrapped tightly round his torso. She took off her gloves, balling them up to throw away into the biohazard bin, and said casually without looking up once, “If you touch those again I’ll kick you out and leave you to bleed on on the curb. You’re not making a mess in my medical suite again, Avenger or not." 

With that, she was gone.

"Why did you engage with Doom without backup?” Steve asked in a disturbingly calm voice, as if holding back from exploding in a fit of anger, avoiding  eye-contact all together. Steve had fished the StarkPad off his bedside table - Sam must’ve left it for him - and was skimming over the mission report.

“I was unconscious and your armour was compromised, Thor said he was on his way, so why didn’t you just wait-!”

“It would have been too long!” Tony interrupted, feeling his own anger boiling in his gut, “Thor and Hulk were being bombarded by Doombots, you needed to get somewhere safe yesterday, and I was not gonna let that asshole just get away!”

Steve chewed the inside of his mouth, thinking of what counter argument to say next, so Tony took the opportunity to carry on.

“If I hadn’t have stepped in, Thor would never have reached Doom in time and he wouldn’t be sealed in interrelation, ready to be held trial for what he’s done. Civilians died, Steve, you could’ve-”

“Alright.” _Wait, what?_ Tony said as much to Steve. “You’re right, he shouldn’t have gotten away, but your attack on him was thoughtless, Stark, I thought you were over this who goddamn lone-ranger recklessness on the field! You’re on a team! You only had to hold him off 'til backup arrived, what the hell were you thinking?!”

Steve’s voice had risen beyond a stern to full out yelling, earning a few concerned stares through the door from passers-by. The door mysteriously closed, and Steve sighed. One of the team must of closed it, meaning all of them were listening in. _Fantastic_.

“If I see a single one of you listening in outside this goddamn door in the surveillance tape later I will personally have you put on paperwork duty for the next fortnight,” Steve said plainly. The sound of shuffling stirred up and eventually faded out down the corridor.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before continuing.

“Star- _Tony_ , earlier - on the jet, I was conscious enough to see what happened, what happened to you, and I-” Steve seemed to think carefully about his next words, swallowing the lump in his throat and licking his bottom lip, avoiding Tony’s gaze. Not that Tony was looking at Steve either. _Boys_.

“You were so pale and there was just blood everywhere- it was, brutal, seeing you like that. You looked so _small_ , Tony.”

“Steve-”

“The thought of losing you because you were saving me that kills me, Tony. Why didn’t you think of-?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Tony burst out louder than expecting, “Christ, Steve, with you I don’t think, it’s one of the only times I don’t think and calculate all the variables to the _T_ , with you its, it’s like, like ritual.” Tony finished, heart racing but feeling a lot calmer than a few moments ago

Steve bobbed his mouth open and shut, at a loss of what to say. Tony smiled softly, took pity on the man and gently lifted his hand, closing Steve’s gaping mouth, tilting it closed by his chin. Steve gradually leaned into Tony’s touch, closing his eyes and sighing contently. Tony let his hand linger over Steve’s cheek, then settling softly cradling his jaw.

Steve met his eyes, and Tony carried on talking.

“It’s like, I don’t need to think, I just _do_ , and I just reacted. It’s what I know, it’s just there and- I’m kinda going off and a tangent here with this analogy so please feel free and step in so I stop talking-”

Steve tilted his head and kissed the palm of Tony’s hand, clasping his own hand over Tony’s. Tony wet his lips and started to shuffle, adjusting the way he was led. Steve flushed a soft pink, stomach lifting into his chest as the ends of his fingers began to tingle with anticipation.

Tony closed the gap between them on one swift movement, bringing their lips together tenderly. Steve got with the programme quickly, and kissed back, bringing an arm round Tony’s waist, drawing him closer. Tony deepened the kiss and Steve moaned softly into his mouth, letting his mind drift upwards. He’d wanted this for so long, it ached in his chest and throbbed around his body. He tilted Tony’s head backwards gently, kissing Tony deeper and leaning over his body slightly, letting Tony lay back as Steve gently climbed over him, careful of his stitches.

They kissed for what felt like hours, touching each other intimately, stroking hands through each other’s hair. Tony ran his hands over Steve’s biceps and his chest, Steve gingerly placed a hand over the scars left by the arc reactor, feeling the curves of his waist, pulling their hips together.

“That’s bad for the stitches.”

Steve dropped his head onto Tony’s chest with a sigh, closing his eyes as if to say why me, why now. Tony snorted gently and dipped his head forward pecking Steve’s forehead. Steve sat up and turned to look at the voice coming from the door, eyes already rolling back good-naturedly.

The team stood in the doorway, poking their heads through at different angles comically, grinning at the pair.

“Alright thanks for stopping by, you can go now”

“Aw, Cap c'mon, it’s visiting hours! We all wanna see how our leaders are doing,” Clint said with a smirk on his face, already strolling into the room and plonking himself into an armchair my the bed.

Steve sat up, gently helping Tony into a sitting position, smiling at him sweetly.

“Ugh, please stop doing that”

“Doing what, Buck?”

“That- _thing_ where you look at each other nicely. Disgusting” Bucky mock-grumbled as he sauntered in, dropping himself on windowsill, followed by the others pizza boxes in hand. Steve just tossed a pillow at the guy’s head.

The others filed into the room, taking up respective places, perched on windowsills, plastic chairs, and at the foot of the bed. As the others joked around, throwing pizza crusts at Steve when he got doe-eyed, Tony settled back against Steve’s chest, and smiled.


End file.
